By the side of her plate was a small key. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. Her gratitude swelled within her. Her cargo is nearly shipped. ’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics.
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